


Catch My Drift

by skelewriter



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Lifeguard Sans, Post-Pacifist Route, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader nearly drowns, Reader-Insert, Sans' pov at the beginning, cue Summer Nights, oh don't forget the beach puns, so Sans has to dive in and save their ass, then switches to reader's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 16:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7230649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelewriter/pseuds/skelewriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You weren't expecting to nearly drown during your trip to the beach.<br/>Of course, you weren't expecting to fall head over heels for the cute skeleton lifeguard, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Catch My Drift

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to let you guys know that I started writing this in The Elephant House, aka where J.K. Rowling wrote the first Harry Potter book. What better way to honor Rowling's name than writing self-insert fanfiction about crushing on a skeleton.

Being a lifeguard was much nicer than Sans expected.       

The calming rhythm of the waves rolling onto the shore, the wide expanse of ocean that stretched unimaginably far on the horizon, the sun that beat down and warmed each grain of sand…it was the perfect job for a monster who’d been cooped up underground his entire life, longing for when he could see the sky.

It was an _especially_ perfect job for a monster who enjoyed sitting on his rump all day.

Sans cracked open one eye, grinning as he surveyed the expanse of beach. Considering the importance of his job, he never fell asleep in the lifeguard chair, but he liked to occasionally close his eyes and listen to the roar of the waves and peals of laughter from children running down the shore. He felt at peace here, more so than working within the city where he felt distant from nature. During his night shifts, the stars splayed out above him in great numbers, prickles of light against a deep black canvas. The days were nice, too, as the sun’s rays warmed his bones.

As an added bonus, Sans was the only lifeguard who didn’t have to worry about sunburn. Not having skin helped with that. He did, however, keep a tube of sunscreen on hand for any beachgoers who forgot to bring their own. Occasionally, he’d dab some where his nose should be in pure irony, like he’d seen human lifeguards do in movies. People always chuckled when they noticed. Once a comedian, always a comedian.

In fact, nearly all of his interactions with humans at the beach had been pleasant. Most of them didn’t bother to approach his chair, but everyone Sans had spoken with had simply been happy to be there. Made his job easy. Every so often he broke up a scuffle on the beach, typically between drunk college kids, which he was more than capable of dealing with by using a bit of blue magic. Most of his days, though, went without incident and left him scanning over the shore, watching as humans and monsters mingled in the surf. Sans loved seeing the smiling faces of sunbathers, of sandcastle-builders, of families and friends. He tracked the movements of surfers and snorkelers alike.

Today, however, there was one person in particular who kept drawing his eye. He glanced once again toward his left, down where the waves broke against the shore. There they were, running towards the ocean, feet sinking into the damp sand with each step. Even from his stand, Sans could hear when they laughed, a genuine sound that made him smile even wider. He’d only heard them laugh a handful of times now, but had already decided it was one of his favorite sounds on the beach. As they pushed further into the water, now waist-deep, he took note of the way their wind-blown hair framed their face and the spark of giddy excitement in their eyes…

Oh. Right. He should probably check on the rest of the beach. Lifeguard duty and all.

How long had he been staring?

Taking a quick glance around told him that everyone was still alive and breathing. A couple kids were trying to catch a wave with boogie boards and another group was burying a grinning teen under a pile of sand. His head was still above ground, though, so no need to intervene. Sans sighed and shifted to slouch further in his chair. Without realizing it, his eyes had shifted back to _them_.

They’d waded much further out to sea. Actually, Sans noted with a squint, they weren’t even close to shore. And they were rapidly swimming to even deeper waters.

Wait. Were they…waving? Yes, Sans was sure of it now. Their arm was arcing through the air, likely gesturing to whoever they arrived with.

Except…

If Sans he had flesh and blood, the color would have drained from his cheeks.

They weren’t swimming. They were being _carried away_ from the shore. And they weren’t just waving at people they knew – they were waving at _everyone_ , hoping that someone would notice.

They were in the middle of the rip current and it was rapidly pulling them out to sea.

Sans cursed as he scrambled for the flippers by his side. Yanking them on, he glanced again to the open water. They were nowhere to be seen. The current had pulled them under the water.

Sans took a deep breath and suddenly the chair was empty.

 

* * *

 

Your chest felt like it was on fire. Despite being battered and tossed by the current, you continued to fight your way upward. It was pointless. The rip was too strong and your lungs were about to give in. Panic rushed through you as the gravity of the situation hit like a tsunami.

Out of all the ways to go, you were really hoping for a grander exit. Maybe something to do with spies. Or a sword duel. Instead, your only opponent was the ocean buffeting you from all angles. Though you had to admit it was a worthy opponent as your lungs gave out and finally forced you to inhale water.

Blackness had begun to creep into your vision when you felt something hard wrap around your waist. Your mind barely registered it, too exhausted with the lack of oxygen being supplied. Whatever it was gripped you tighter. You felt fabric against your back as your eyes slid shut.

As you faded into unconsciousness, a lurching sensation filled your stomach and suddenly the water was gone. Something wet and grainy was beneath you. _Sand_ , you brain supplied with the last of its remaining energy.

“…i need…awake…stay with…don’t…” A deep, panicked voice was speaking next to you, but you weren’t paying attention. You couldn’t.

You blacked out.

 

The first sensation that registered when you came to was the feeling of something hard pressed against your lips. _Definitely not your pillow_ , your mind said, rather unhelpfully. Were those…teeth? Why was a set of teeth being pushed against your mouth?

Your attention was diverted by a second sensation: something was holding your nose shut. _Well that’s just rude_ , you thought before your chest suddenly heaved and the burning was back and you could feel something wet rushing up your windpipe. Whatever – or whoever – was on your lips quickly backed away and released your nose. You turned on your side, retching up seawater and bile. _Ugh, this is awful_ , you thought as you continued to hack up water. _This is…this is just_ …cough cough hack... _this is absolutely…_ cough hack cough… _absolutely terrible_.

You took a deep, shaky breath, then returned to expelling the remaining seawater from your lungs. Everything hurt. It felt like someone rammed into your insides with a bus, then poured acid over the mangled remains.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you finished coughing up water and your breathing steadied. Fuck, did it hurt to breathe. Now that your body was out of _holy-shit-I’m-dying_ mode, your senses allowed you to take in the environment. You were sitting near the shoreline, the very tips of waves lapping your skin. The sun was still high in the clear sky.

Also, there was a skeleton kneeling beside you.

You blinked. You’d seen other monsters, of course, but not a skeleton one. He was wearing a bright yellow shirt with a red cross on the front, complemented by a pair of red shorts. With an outfit like that, he must be the lifeguard, although you had no clue why he was wearing sleek, black gloves. Water was running down his arm…or his humerus. Radius? You always got those two confused. You realized his clothes were sopping wet, dripping onto the sand. As you caught his worried expression, the pieces started fitting together in your head. Clearly, he jumped in after you. How had he swam to you so fast? Your eyes lingered on his face, briefly meeting his white, pinprick pupils before traveling down to examine his cheeks and mouth. He was…kind of cute, to be honest. Though maybe that was your oxygen-deprived brain talking.

Despite his obvious concern for you well-being, there was a strained smile planted on his face. A smile completely made out of…teeth…

You face paled as it dawned on you what exactly that set of teeth just did. You sat up in a flash and immediately regretted it as your head started pounding, feeling like a hammer and chisel had been taken to your skull. You closed your eyes and hissed just before feeling a bony hand press against your back.

“hey, you ok bud? take it easy,” a gravelly voice said next to you. It took you a minute to realize it was the lifeguard talking.

“I’m fine,” you rasped out. Ouch. Your throat was killing you and you sounded like a chain smoker.

“i wouldn’t exactly call inhaling a gallon of water and nearly coughing your lungs out ‘fine’, but hey, whatever ya say.”

You gave a half-hearted grin and met his eyes again, vaguely aware that his hand was still on your back. You hoped he’d leave it there.

Wait…what?

“name’s sans, but the way.” The monster’s voice snapped you back to attention. “sans the skeleton.”

“Well I could tell that much,” you replied with a smirk. “Thanks for, uh, fishing me out of the water back there.”

“no problem, kid. just doin’ my job.”

Without realizing it, your eyes had traveled back to his mouth. To that set of teeth. “Oh!” you remembered, blood rushing to your face. “You…um…sorry about the, you know, the teeth thing…”

Sans the skeleton just stared at you quizzically. “the what? the teeth… _oh_.” You swear his voice dropped an octave as he started looking anywhere but your face. “that was…uh…no big deal. like i said, just part of the job.” He was staring at the seashell next to you like it was the most fascinating object in the world.

“R-right,” you stuttered, also studying the seashell with great intensity. You started coughing again and Sans’ eyes shot back to you. He started rubbing circles into your back.

Yeah, you could stay like that. Maybe you should cough more often.

Suddenly, a question bubbled to your mind. “So,” you started, unsure how to ask. Would this be rude? You didn’t know the first thing about skeleton etiquette. “Sorry if this is weird…but, uh…”

Sans’ hand stilled, much to your disappointment. “ask away, pal.” He sounded nervous.

“How do you give CPR without lungs?”

Sans stared at you with a shocked expression. For a minute you thought you’d offended him before his grin widened and a deep chuckle emanated from his chest. He took his hand off your back and held it in front of your face, waggling his fingers.

“magic.”

You groaned and flopped back down onto the sand. “I’m not getting a real answer out of you, am I?”

“that _was_ a real answer.”

“You know what I meant.”

Sans crisscrossed his legs as a mischievous smile spread across his face. “if you’re so curious,” he droned, “i could always give you another demonstration.”

You choked again, your system spitting up what little water was still sitting in your lungs. Wow, had the sand underneath you always felt this warm? You could have sworn the sun had just gotten a hundred degrees hotter.

“I,” you sputtered, trying to remember how to breathe. “I didn’t…”

“hehe, jeez kid, don’t hack up a lung there,” Sans chuckled. He grabbed your hand, pulling you into a sitting position as you continued to cough it out. “it was just a joke.”

“R-right.” Cough. “A joke.” You hoped the blush on your face would be mistaken for sunburn. He was still holding your hand.

Actually, you were fairly close to him now, and for the first time you realized how soaked his lifeguard uniform was. For a moment, you felt bad about making him dive in after you…until you noticed how the wet fabric of his shirt was hugging his frame. Your eyes lingered on his collarbone before traveling down to his chest where you could see the outline of each individual rib.

He was fascinating.

You had to stop yourself from glancing down further.

Sans’ grip tightened in your hand. It was only by a fraction, but you noticed immediately. Shit. You were still staring at his ribs. Were you making him uncomfortable? You opened your mouth, preparing to apologize, when something you hadn’t noticed before caught your eye.

“Sans…” you said slowly. “Are you wearing flippers?”

Honestly, you had no idea how you didn’t notice before. Probably had something to do with nearly dying and being pseudo-kissed by a cute skeleton lifeguard. But there they were, a pair of black flippers covering the bones of his feet.

They looked absolutely ridiculous.

Sans blinked and looked down at his feet. “oh yeah, i guess i can take those off now,” he said, sounding slightly embarrassed.

You looked at him quizzically. “But, why do you wear them? I’ve never seen the other lifeguards here wear flippers.”

He looked up at you sheepishly, letting go of your hand. Darn. “ok, so,” he began as he started undoing the straps on the flippers. “ya know how humans have skin and stuff?”

“I happen to be aware of this fact, yes.”

“well, skin helps push against water when you’re swimming. kinda like how webbed feet help froggits swim.”

“Froggits?”

“uh, frogs. frog monsters.”

“Oh, cool! Do they croak like frogs or can they talk like most other monst-“ You stopped short, noticing the amused expression on Sans’ face. “Sorry, sorry, continue.”

Sans chuckled. “s’ok. they can do both. mostly talk, but get a bunch of ‘em near water and they’ll ribbit all night long.”

“Sounds like quite the party.”

“sure, if you like eating flies as finger food.” He laughed as you scrunched up your face. “anyways, flippers. so webbed feet help froggits swim faster ‘cause there’s a larger surface area to push against the water. human skin does the same, to a lesser extent.”

Something clicked in your head. “Wait,” you said. “So your bones…”

“bingo. water goes right through ‘em. nothin’ to push against it, too many gaps between bones.” Sans slipped off the last flipper, wiggling his toes. “same reason i wear gloves. can barely swim without ‘em.”

You stared at his bare feet. You remembered hearing in school about there being a lot of bones in the foot. 25? 30? Something like that. Well, you could see for yourself now as your eyes traced over the many different joints. Sans wasn’t kidding: there was plenty of space between his phalanges where water could slip through.

Wait, did he have to wear flippers in the pool, too? A mental image materialized in your head of Sans grasping onto a pool noodle, attempting to kick his way to the side and failing miserably. You snickered. Sans’ eyes flickered lazily to you.

“what’s so funny?” he asked, grin widening.

“You just…oh my god, it’s just so _ridiculous_.” You were trying not to laugh and doing a piss-poor job of it.

“hey, it’s rude to laugh at someone’s disability,” he retorted, still grinning. “you don’t see _me_ laughing at _your_ inability to swim.”

You gasped dramatically. “Sans, I nearly _died_. That’s _quite_ a sensitive subject.”

“hey, you’re still breathing. don’t be so **crabby**.”

Whatever you were about to say died in your throat as you caught Sans’ smirk. “Did you…was that a beach pun?”

“was what a beach pun?” Sans said innocently. “you’re gonna have to be more **pacific**.”

“Oh my god.”

“what, do ya **knot** like my jokes?”

“Oh my GOD,” you repeated, fighting back a smile.

“you’re soundin’ like a broken record, kid. you **clamming** up? feelin’ a bit tongue- **tide**?”

“Sans. Sans. Those are awful.”

“hey now,” Sans replied, feigning a hurt expression. “i’m workin’ **reely** hard on these. they’re a pain in the **bass** to come up with.”

That one broke you. A snicker escaped your mouth and the lights in Sans’ eyes grew even brighter.

“oh, so _now_ ya laugh? seems **fishy** to me.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes, still chuckling. “You’re terrible.”

Sans sighed. “alright, alright. i’ll **scale** back then. don’t wanna make **anemone** outta ya.”

You laughed harder this time, despite your throat still feeling raw. “That doesn’t even work,” you said between pained breaths. “It’s pronounced ‘ah- _nem_ -oh-ni’, not ‘an- _en_ -oh-me’.”

“ **whale** that’s a load of **carp**.”

You lost it. You keeled over, practically wheezing with laughter. Fuck, did it hurt. Your lungs were still recovering from inhaling a gallon of water and they did _not_ appreciate you laughing. You winced.

Sans noticed, his grin faltering. “you alright, pal? too much comedic genius for one sitting?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, wiping tears from your eyes. “I just…ehehe.” Ouch. “It just hurts to laugh.” Your throat was burning again.

Sans’ brow furrowed. “well, we can’t have that. ya got a nice laugh.”

Oh. OH. You felt blush creeping back up your face. “Uh...hah…thanks,” you muttered, looking down at your hands.

There was a pause. You could feel Sans’ eyes on you. When you looked up, he had a pensive expression on his face.

Finally, he spoke up. “i think i know somethin’ that might help,” he said, slowly standing to his feet. “wait here just a minute.”

“Yeah, sure-“ you started, but he was already gone. Vanished. “ _Whaaaaat_ ,” you whispered to yourself, eyes wide. You glanced around, but there was no sign of the skeleton. “Heh. Sans, is this some sort of magic trick?” you nervously said to open air. “Because…um…it’s pretty damn good-“

And there he was, standing right in front of you as if he’d never left. You jolted in surprise, then hissed in pain. Right. No sudden movements.

“you ok, bud? didn’t mean t’scare ya there.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s cool,” you waved your hand absentmindedly. “Just…how the HELL did you do that?!”

Sans grinned. “do what?”

You clenched your teeth. This monster was insufferable. Cute, but insufferable.

“The vanishing act. Did you…did you _teleport_?”

“eh, not exactly,” Sans replied, rubbing the back of his skull with a gloved hand. You noticed his other hand was holding a mug that read ‘#1 Bro’. “just made a shortcut. quick way to get from one place to another.”

“Sans. That is _definitely_ teleportation,” you stated, eyes wide with wonder.

“heh. whatever ya say, kid,” he chuckled before cocking an eyebrow at you. “do ya really not remember?”

You paused. “Remember what?”

“s’not the first time i’ve made a shortcut today.”

Based on his smug grin, you clearly weren’t picking up on something. You racked your muddled, exhausted brain for what the hell Sans could be talking about. Did he teleport while chatting with you? Unlikely, since your eyes had been practically glued to him the entire time. Must have been before he kissed – er – performed CPR on you, but why would he expect you to remember? You didn’t know him before now.

You suddenly recalled your last moments of consciousness in the ocean, after blackness had creeped into your vision. The sturdy structure that gripped your waist, the dizzy, nauseating feeling followed by damp sand against your back…

“Wait…oh my god!” you exclaimed, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. “You teleported me!”

“made a shortcut for you,” Sans corrected.

“Sure, whatever you say,” you mimicked, noticing with pride as the skeleton’s smile grew larger. You loved making him smile. “I guess that explains how you got to me so fast. Especially with those clunky flippers on.”

“hey. low blow,” Sans complained, but grinned nonetheless.

With that mystery solved, you could finally focus on the other question at hand. “So. What’s with the mug?” you asked.

“ah, right. i popped over to my place to grab it.” He started making his way closer to the sea. “there’s a certain monster drink that might help ya.” Kneeling down in the sand, he waited until a wave broke, water rushing up over his shins and tickling your legs. You watched as he took the mug and…

…scooped up a cup full of seawater.

He wandered back over to you, plopping down at your side. He handed you the mug.

“drink up.”

You stared at him as if he’d sprouted three heads. “Sans,” you began, choosing your words carefully. “This is seawater.”

“yup.”

“You _do_ realize I already drank, like, half the ocean today.”

“yup.” Sans nodded at the mug. “’s called ‘sea tea’.”

“Well that answers all of my questions.” You glanced down at the mug, then back up to Sans. He was looking at you expectantly. Shrugging, you brought the mug to your lips and took a sip.

It tasted…exactly like seawater.

You spat out the monstrosity, gagging on the overpowering taste of salt. Coughing, you glared daggers at Sans. “THIS is sea tea?! How the hell do you guys drink this stuff?”

Sans was cracking up, chest heaving as he tried to speak between breaths. “heheh. nah. that was just seawater.”

You stared at him, flabbergasted. “I nearly drown and this is how you treat me. By feeding me more seawater. Unbelievable.” Despite yourself, you started to chuckle. Still painful. You grimaced and rubbed your throat.

Sans gently took the mug from your hands. “alright, lemme give ya some real sea tea t’make up for it.”

“Wait, it’s a real thing? I figured it was just a dumb name you made up on the spot.”

“well, monsters _are_ notoriously bad at naming things: spider donuts, monster candy, popato chisps…”

“Excuse me?”

“point is,” Sans continued, “sea tea’s real, albeit terribly named.”

“So why’s it called sea tea?”

Sans lifted the mug. “’cause we already have half the ingredients right here.”

“Wait wait wait. So you _do_ drink seawater.”

“not by itself, that’s just disgusting. only a maniac would try that.”

You glared playfully back into his eye sockets, but your curiosity got the better of you. “So what’s the second ingredient? Seaweed? Hopefully sand…I haven’t been getting enough **grains** in my diet.”

The monster’s eyes lit up at your joke. “good one, but nah. lemme show ya.”

You watched as Sans shifted the mug to his right hand. Holding your gaze, he bit down on the tip of his left glove, slowly pulling it free with is teeth. Slower than you thought necessary.

_Gulp_.

He let the glove drop into the wet sand. You could see the individual bones of his hand as he held it above the mug.

“the second ingredient,” Sans said with a wink, “is magic.”

His eyes sockets grew dark as the pin-prick pupils vanished from sight, reminding you of the blackness that claimed your vision just a few minutes ago. In his left eye, you spotted the faintest hint of blue. The raw magic swirled around, growing bigger and brighter until it was an intense, vibrant color.

You were transfixed.

Sans snapped his fingers. Tiny sparks of blue danced across his fingertips before falling into the mug. Peering inside, you could see the water shimmer with added energy. Its color had grown lighter: still transparent like the ocean, but tinted sky-blue. It matched his eye.

After a minute or so of adding pure magic, the violent light in Sans’ eye faded out, replaced once more by his softer, white pupil. He gave the mug a swirl and placed it gently in your hand. “that should do it,” he said plainly, taking off his other glove as you stared down at the concoction. He noticed your pause. “heh, it’s for real this time. promise.”

Hesitantly, you sipped at the magic-infused seawater. It certainly tasted better than last time. You rolled the tea around in your mouth, trying to place the flavor. It was warm without being physically warm, tasting of summer melons, of spring flowers. A slightly salty aftertaste. Another sensation, too, like the feeling of pop rocks without the actual pop. Like energy. Magic.

It was unlike anything you’d ever tasted.

You must have been making a face because Sans looked a little nervous, eyes shifting away. “uh, is it not great? sorry it’s cold. fire magic isn’t really my specialty-“

Without thinking, you put your hand on his bony knee. He stopped talking immediately, words dying in his throat as he looked up in surprise. “Sans,” you said warmly, “It’s wonderful. Thank you.” That seemed to help, as you watched the tension leave his shoulders through his still-damp shirt.

“heh. sweet,” he replied. “try drinkin’ the rest. you’ll feel better in no time.”

You took another sip, closing your eyes and humming as the magic tickled your tongue. Already, the scratchy feeling in your throat was fading away, as well as the pain in your lungs. Looking back at Sans, you were surprised to find his smile strained. Was something bothering him? You noticed his eyes quickly glanced down at your hand, which was still resting on his knee, before focusing once more on the seashell at your side.

Oh shit. Were you making him uncomfortable? Were you being too forward? Shit. Maybe he didn’t like being touched, you didn’t think of that. Was it rude to directly touch his bones? _Shit_.

You started to pull your hand away when Sans shifted. He casually slid his own bony hand over top of yours.

Oh. Well.

Never mind, then.

You took another sip, using the mug to hide the grin plastered to your face.

The two of you sat like that for a long time, listening to the crashing waves as you drank. The sea was calming down to a peaceful sigh and the light of the sun softened as it approached the horizon. You breathed slowly and deliberately, enjoying the scent of salt and sand as the pain in your lungs ebbed. You curled your toes and listened to the seagulls squawking overhead.

What had your attention the most, though, was the feeling of bone on your skin. Sans was warmer than you’d expected, bones heated by the sun’s rays. His hand was hard, but comforting. Gentle and smooth, like a stone molded by the ocean. You kept glancing over to him. His eyes were on the sea and his mouth was shaped into a small, genuine smile. One time, you saw him close his eyes, an expression of peace unmistakable on his face. Another time, you caught him staring at your _own_ eyes, his face unreadable. The two of you held that gaze for a while, smiling warmly at each other until his gaze returned to the water.

A couple minutes later, you summed up your courage and began stroking his knee with your thumb, lightly brushing back and forth over the smooth bone. You heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced over to find him staring at your thumb, eyes shrunk to tiny dots. He moved his hand away, giving you a moment of panic before he slipped it underneath yours, entwining his phalanges with your fingers. Your heart jumped to your throat and you took a long, slow sip of sea tea to wash it back down.

When his thumb started glazing over your knuckles, you thought you might need CPR again. Sans was looking at the sea, but the smugness he exuded confirmed your suspicions. He was using your own moves against you. That bastard. That beautiful, charming bastard. Not wanting the moment to end, you drank your tea very, very slowly. Sans didn’t seem to mind.

By the time you drained the mug, your clothes were nearly dry and the sky was lighting up in shades of pink and orange. The monster drink had worked wonders and your throat felt only the slightest bit scratchy. You lowered the empty mug into your lap.

“feel better?” Sans asked, voice rough after being silent for so long.

“Yeah,” you answered, sighing contently as you handed back the mug. “Thanks.”

He placed it down on the sand. “anytime, pal.”

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure where to go from here. Finally, he untangled his hand from yours and started to stand. “i should probably, uh, get back to my post. make sure everyone’s doin’ a-okay.”

You also rose to your feet, legs a little wobbly. “Right. Of course. Wouldn’t want anyone drowning on your shift just because I almost did.”

“yeah, that would be pretty **shellfish** of you.”

You groaned, then laughed despite yourself. Sans’ eyes grew brighter. “hey, you’re laughing without **eeling** over in pain. guess that tea worked.”

“Ugh. That one was a stretch.”

“ **water** you talkin’ about, that was some of my finest work.”

“Sans. Come on,” you drawled, “I’m **drowning** in your puns here.”

Sans chuckled. “hey, that was good. i’ll have to remember that one.”

“Make sure to give me credit if you ever use it,” you jested, then paused. “Actually, never mind. I’d rather not be known for a pun about drowning.”

“too late. now every time i crack a joke about drowning, it’ll make me think of you.”

“I’m honored. What a way to be remembered.”

More silence. You wanted Sans to stay for the rest of the day, but knew he had others to look after. Your time together was coming to a close and both of you could sense it.

Sans opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. He rubbed his skull, not looking you in the eye. “well, i gotta go,” he said solemnly. “thanks for a good time. it was nice t’meetcha.”

Your mouth felt dry. “Nice to meet you, too,” you said lamely. With that, Sans picked up his belongings, turned around, and started walking back toward the lifeguard stand.

This wasn’t right. It couldn’t end here. You had to do something.

You closed your eyes and took a shuddering breath. “Sans?”

The monster turned around. “yeah, kid?”

“What time does your shift end?”

Sans’ brow furrowed. “eight o’clock. why d’ya ask?”

You swallowed hard. “I know a great restaurant just a short walk from here,” you said. “Want to grab dinner after your shift?”

You could have sworn the dull lights in Sans’ eyes turned into LEDs. “i’d love to,” he said in a voice that sounded as raw as yours. “where’d ya have in mind?”

Relief washed over you as you broke into a huge smile. “Have you heard of Grillby’s?”

For some reason, Sans looked you in bewilderment. “ _have_ i? i’ve been a regular there since grillby was still flippin’ burgers in the underground! got the best ketchup in the world.”

“Really? I’ve never tried it.”

“oh man. buddy. pal. you’re in for a treat. you gotta try some on our date tonight.”

You felt your face flush for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. “Yeah. Our date.”

Sans eyed the crimson in your cheeks. “heh. red looks good on ya,” he said with a wink, which only succeeded in making you turn a shade darker. He turned around again, a new spring in his step. “see ya at eight.”

“See ya then,” you replied, watching as he walked across the shore.

He stopped.

“wait,” he said, turning back toward you. “i forgot to do somethin’.”

You blinked, still recovering from earlier shock. “What’s that?”

Sans began to approach you again, dropping his belongings onto the sand. “a certain lifeguard test. extra precaution. to make sure ya won’t…uh…relapse.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Pretty sure you can’t relapse from nearly drow-“

There was a flash of blue in your vision and suddenly Sans was right in front of you. Before you could process what was happening, you felt a hand slide across your lower back. Sans leaned in. For the second time that day, he pressed his smooth teeth against your warm lips.

Your mind went into overload. For a moment all you could do was stand there, dumbstruck, before realization hit you like a tidal wave. His teeth were warm like his hand, like his knee, like the sun-soaked sand and your singing heart. They were stronger than human lips – not soft, but safe. Sturdy. You pressed back, satisfied by the surprised, guttural noise that escaped his throat. He pulled you closer until you were flush against him, close enough to feel the bones shift under his shirt.

You remained that way for what seemed like forever, yet still not long enough. Eventually, you both pulled away. Sans’ hand remained rested on your back and he made a show out of looking you over. “huh,” he said mischievously. “ya seem short of breath. might be at risk of relapsing after all.”

You hummed. “Bummer. Seems like you’ll have to run that test more often. You know, to check up on me. Fulfill your lifeguard duties.”

Sans winked. “ **shore** thing, pal.” His hand slid off your back as he turned around once more, raising his hand in a wave as he began walking toward his stand. “see ya at grillby’s.”

You smiled. “Yeah, **sea** ya there!”

As you walked away, you heard a familiar, low chuckle behind you.

Sans might have said he liked your laugh, but _his_ laugh…

His laugh made you warmer than the sun in the sky.


End file.
